


The Art of War

by pixelpiano



Series: November of Lesbians [8]
Category: Fire Emblem: Seisen no Keifu | Fire Emblem: Genealogy of the Holy War
Genre: (but without any follow through), Except more like Slash Slash Hot Damn, F/F, More for the Headcannon than the Fic..., Rare Pairings, Slap Slap Kiss, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-29
Updated: 2017-11-29
Packaged: 2019-02-08 09:45:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12861924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pixelpiano/pseuds/pixelpiano
Summary: An unlikely face interrupts Ayra's training...





	The Art of War

**Author's Note:**

> You didn't think I'd forget to include Fire Emblem in my lesbian fic-series, did you??
> 
> I actually debated for a long time who I was going to choose for this fandom. Lyn/Florina was an obvious choice for happy fluff, but I already have the Elibeian Chronicles for that. Erika/L'Arachel was another possible choice, but I couldn't get the words to come--same with Shadows of Valentia's Celica/Mae. And don't even get me started on all the possible lesbian combos from Awakening/Fates...but in the end, I decided that it was time to give another Fire Emblem Game some love!
> 
> In all honesty, this fic was written more for the concept of the headcannon itself, rather than the actual pairing (which is truly the rarest rarepair according to Ao3: this will be the first one of its kind!!). There are spoilers ahead for FE4 & FE5, so read at your own risk:
> 
> [BEGIN SPOILERS]
> 
> Basically, it's implied at the end of Fire Emblem 5 that Leif's bodyguard Eyvel is actually Brigid, heir to Ulir's sacred bow Yewfelle, and eldest daughter of the House of Ring. Essentially, this would mean that instead of dying at the Battle of Belhalla, Brigid actually escapes, and washes up on the shores of Ith with amnesia (and some wicked nice sword skills), eventually becoming head of the Fiana Freeblades/Militia, who would later protect the young Lief until he began the Thracian revolution.
> 
> This is both a wonderful backstory that ties together the two storylines, and a fantastic opportunity for my new favorite rarepair of Ayra/Brigid. Mostly, I like the idea of cold, standoffish warrior girls slowly falling for each other, but it also helps explain where Brigid's magic swordsmanship comes from considering her background. 
> 
> The final point to make is the origin of "Eyvel"'s new name: "eyvel" is a word in the Issachian tongue that essentially amounts to "novice", "lacking skill", etc. While Ayra uses it as an insult towards Brigid, I like to think it becomes more of a friendly nickname for her as the two grow closer. When Brigid eventually wakes up on the shores of Ith, she has few memories, and all of them are of the beautiful swordswoman who must have taught her the ways of the sword. And with how often this woman in her memories addresses her as "eyvel", she assumes it must be her name. 
> 
> Thus Eyvel's journey in FE5 begins. When she regains her memory at the end of FE5, she probably goes in search of Ayra, to see her long-lost love one last time...
> 
> [END SPOILERS]

* * *

_“Hyah! Huh! Hyah! Huh!”…_

             Ayra continues through her drills, making rapid, calculated strikes at the air in front of her. With each swing, a wave of energy flows from her feet, through her chest, to her hands, and out to the tip of her sword. And each time, the sword slices right through the same spot in the air.

             Briggid stands off to the side watching the swordswoman’s training, her bow slung casually over her shoulder. Her eyes follow the tip of the sword as it makes each precision cut, and then returns to its position right in front of the swordswoman’s eyes. Her purple robes ripple with each strike

             “Are you just going to stand there all day with your mouth agape?” Ayra asks with a hint of annoyance. She brushes a strand of jet-black hair from her face, and turns to face Briggid, resting a hand on her hip.

             “Forgive me if I’ve insulted ya, miss” Briggid answers, nodding respectfully, “The way ya fight is jus’ so elegant to me, I couldn’t help but stare.”

             “Swordsmanship is an art—the same as archery,” Ayra replies coyly, eyeing the bow slung over Briggid’s shoulders. “However, unlike archery, it is an art that does not allow for mistakes. That is why I train daily. It makes no difference to me if you chose to watch, but I’d rather you stay where I can see you…”

             Briggid meets Ayra’s glare with a cunning stare. She reaches for the bow at her shoulder, watching Ayra’s sword hand twitch. With a sigh, Briggid heaves the bow off her shoulders, and lets it fall to the soft grass below. “Relax,” she says, with a soft chuckle, “I ain’t here to attack ya.”

             “You’d die before you got the chance…” Ayra states.

             “Train me,” Briggid says, her eyes turning serious. “I’d learn the ways of the sword, and I’d have a lass as skilled as you teach me.”

             “No.”

             “I wasn’t askin’,” Briggid answers, a grin tugging at the end of her lips, “Yer not wrong with whach’ya said: a bow ain’t worth much ‘nless yer foe can’t see ya.”

             “I don’t need you to tell me that I’m correct…”

             “Don’ worry, I ain’t wet behind the ears when it comes to swords. I’m just no match for a lass like you…yet,” Briggid adds.

             “Leave my sight, _eyvel,_ before you anger me.”

             “One duel then,” Briggid asks, frowning. “If I can last ‘till the count of 20, you train me.”

             Ayra sighs, rolling her eyes.

             “…Fine. Draw.”

* * *

             Briggid lies sprawled out on the ground, her arm bleeding from a gash in her shoulder. Ayra stands over her, her sword pointed at Briggid’s throat.

             “…six. You lose, _eyvel,”_ Ayra says flatly.

             “Alright, alright,” Briggid groans, holding her arm. “you win…”

             Ayra lowers her sword, and flips her hair over her shoulder as she turns away. “I’ll admit,” she says, “I didn’t expect you to last past 3…meet me at sunset tomorrow, we’ll start then, _eyvel.”_

             Briggid sighs as Ayra walks away confidently, then grunts as she heaves herself to her feet. “That’s one hell of a woman,” she chuckles to herself as she collects her sword and begins hobbling back to camp…

**Author's Note:**

> The final entry in November of Lesbians!


End file.
